Romantic Equations and Its After”math”

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Everyone is seemingly looking for the One. Look anywhere and you’ll see it evident in the desolate eyes of bar-going, speed-dating, soulmate-searching singles.

But who, may I ask, came up with the idea? Idealists? Artists? Novelists? Hallmark? De Beers? Hollywood?

Whoever the heck it was that brought this notion into our collective hearts and minds, it is, no doubt, a brilliant, idealistic scheme that transcends all peoples. It’s a nice thought; however, it is likely that its main legacy in this needful world of romantic followers may as well be an all-consuming curse that amounts to a wasteland of lifelong, fruitless quests.

Are you looking for the One?

* The “1″ to give value and meaning to the “0″ bit.
* The one crucial score that brings life to an otherwise dull game.
* The one twinkling, little star in the all-consuming darkness.
* The elusive One in a million, within a sea of faceless billions.
* The messianic One that brings salvation to the unrelenting believer.
* The heroic Neo — an anagram the One — that embodies all hope for one’s personal Matrix.

Does the One really exist?

(If not, do not fret, my fellow singles, there are always twins. Just kidding! What I mean is, there are infinite numbers and, therefore, possibilities out there. )

“won’t you be my number two
me and number one are through
there won’t be too much to do
just smile when i feel blue”
- Be My Number Two, Joe Jackson


Note: Originally posted 4 years ago at my now-defunct blog on Yahoo! 360.

The Frog and the Absentee Princess

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As I was leafing through the visually cheery  “little book of i love you” at Barnes and Noble on Sunday night, one image practically jumped out at me: It was a picture of a frog with a caption above it that said, “Me, once upon a time.” Sadly, the sentiment doesn’t apply to myself.

On Tuesday, I attended one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to. Green Day rocked a thrilled crowd at the HP Pavilion in San Jose. But just as a genteel reminder, when the band played this song, its words struck the same chord that the image of the frog did days earlier:

“My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me,
my shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating,
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me,
till then I walk alone …”

- Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Green Day

Obviously, I’m now construing signs all over reminding me of my desolate, prolonged singleness. And as I imagine what the future may bring, I really don’t want to end up as one of those slimy toads who hop from one singles bar to next, settling for the next available barfly. That’s surely not the fairy-tale ending I have envisioned.

With that said, I shall now go about my days with rekindled inspiration and determination. My princess is out there, and I shall find her. Surely, my love story is far from its conclusion. As the saying goes, it’s not over till the fat lady, err …

Today, I was in San Francisco and saw this lady singing an operatic piece on Maiden Lane, a small avenue which I shall now refer to as the “Boulevard of Broken Dreams.”

The Fat Lady is singing ...

Not a good sign at all. Unhappily ever after it is.


Addendum (08/24/09): Here’s the trailer of the upcoming Disney animated film, The Princess and the Frog. Poor frog … even after finding his princess, things don’t go as expected.


Mad Men

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Mad Men Casting Call poster

Mad Men Casting Call poster

This Sunday started not unlike any other: I was moseying along before yet another work week ahead. On my way home from a brief shopping run in Los Gatos, I decided to indulge my arteries with a drive-through snack so I could munch on something later when I re-awake the DVD player to play the Mad Men Season 1 marathon I was in the middle of already.  (Coincidentally, I was shopping at Banana Republic, the store which clothes the dapper Don Draper on the show.)

In line for the cashier’s window at Taco Bell, I was mildly annoyed at the driver of the car behind me who senselessly hit the horn of his dark blue sedan. I looked at my rearview mirror and saw him and his friend giggling. Whatever. As I rolled the car toward the cashier, I heard another honk. This is when I decided to extend my left arm out the window and flip the bird. Not content with this act of immaturity, and with apparent irrationality taking over me, I then stepped out of the car to confront the honking fool and his cohort.

Me: You have a problem?
Honker: No, do you?
Me: Then why were you honking?
Honker: I wasn’t honking at you.
Me: Who else would you be honking at?
Honker: Oh, it was an accident.
(He then proceeded to show me how he put his hands in between the spokes of his steering wheel while the cohort remained silent throughout.)
I walk away.
Honker: You got a problem?
Um, didn’t we just ask each other that same thing? Anyway, I turn back and say, “Only if you do.”
Honker: I don’t have a problem.

It was a nonevent. However, the point is I never even should’ve gone there. In the Philippines where I grew up, many news headlines have been published about motorists having been killed by some megalomaniac or gun-toting scion over such minor traffic altercations. I should know better; It’s not worth the fuss.

So why did I do it? Well, I can offer up the hackneyed excuse that it is in our primal nature to defend ourselves when threatened. That sounds like a cop out, though. But I think that while we all grow up and expectantly become wiser and more mature, there are times when we relapse. Boys, after all, will be boys … even if we just end up looking like a bunch of old and very mad men.

The Sweet Spot

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photo by madmonk

In this month’s GQ, Adam Sachs posits that the golden (prowling) age for the contemporary single male–when one can snag and/or shag an eclectic array of ladies, from their roaring twenties to their rocking fifties–comes in his mid- to late-thirties. He calls this period the Sweet Spot. And as yours truly is a man in this so-called period in my life, I buy the logic behind Mr. Sachs’s theory. Sadly, practicing that theory is beyond this author’s realm of capabilities at the moment.

Why, you may ask? Well, for one, I am guilty of sign #10 in another article I came upon this weekend, AskMen.com’s Top 10 Signs You’ve Been Single Too Long:

#10: You Assume You Repulse All Women – When a girl walks by and smiles, most guys take it as an ego-boosting compliment. However, being single for a prolonged period can start to wear on your confidence. Before you know it you start assuming these flirtatious glances are really smirks at your expense, probably aimed at your frumpy hair or bad outfit …

Sooo me. While “repulse“ may be a bit too harsh a word, the snippet above sums up the state of my confidence right now.  I’m sure there’s some Freudian explanation for it, but I’m too distracted to ponder such profundity. (Shallowness is indeed another one of my disparaging character traits.)

So, for a glorious summer day such as today was, when the opposite sex delightfully wear their fetching sundresses to seduce non-repulsive men, what does a doomed man like me do? I certainly could not and did not even remotely charm the panties off of a wanton woman. I did, however, end up royally scrubbing the scum off of my freakin’ toilet. Something definitely stinks in my life, but at least it’s not my bathroom.

Life is like a deck of cards

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some days are aces
some days are faces
some days are twos and threes
- Fight, Ben Kweller

This week the dealer was kind to me …

I saw 2 of my favorite musical acts within a span of 24 hours: I relished the live music of the aforementioned Ben Kweller in San Francisco on Wednesday night, then rocked to Third Eye Blind at Channel 104.9′s free concert in downtown San Jose the following afternoon. Friday night entailed a viewing of Pixar’s Up in 3D. (An awesome movie in which I saw a little bit of myself in Carl Fredricksen.)  Saturday was spent–and I too, in fact, ended up spent–at Great America riding the thrills and perils of its roller coasters. And finally, Sunday was a celebration of Father’s Day with Chloe and my family (the 2 dogs included) over a gastronomically-satisfying feast at my mom’s place. A full house it was.

Not a bad deal at all.

About A Boy

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Making tracks

Making tracks,
originally uploaded by Graham Ballantyne.

Tonight I saw a boy, beaming with joy and innocence, walk out of Target clasping his brand new toy truck.

Now, if I were to walk out of that same store with a cart full of free electronic goodies, I can’t imagine having the same glimmer in my eyes like that kid had in his. Such is youth; pure as the driven snow. After decades of weathering seasons, on the other hand, “I’m as pure as the driven slush.”

Wait for me, please

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Likely an effect of their occupational requirement to be altruistic and attentive, or perhaps it is similar to that condition wherein patients fall for the doctors who treat them, whatever the reasons may be, however shallow or deep-seated, I am definitely besotted with waitresses (female bartenders, included).

To celebrate these supernovae who posses such mesmerizing effervescence and glowing personalities–who, quite sadly, just as quickly come and go into my universe of restaurants and bars as soon as the bill or last call is heralded–let me be the server for once. My dear ladies, I hereby serve up this song for you; it is, after all, National Waitress Day this past Thursday (the day falls on the 21st of May every year).

Wait for Me by Hall & Oates

Nice Guys Finish Not

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Broken heart

Broken heart,
originally uploaded by bored-now.

I’ve written tons of sultry lines
for countless girls on Valentine’s;
etched their names in aging wood
wooed their hearts as best I could.

But tiny gestures and silly rhymes
have failed me half a million times;
none of them have ever withstood
the charms of boys up to no good.

The Year in Re(ar)view

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2008. It brought a lot fond memories. Here are some of the noteworthy ones:

I welcomed its first few hours in a small lounge in San Francisco, and ended it partying at a hotel ballroom in San Diego. From NorCal to SoCal, baby … that’s how I party!

My daughter, Chloe, started attending high school much to my paternal fear. This proved to be unfounded as she’s been getting straight A’s. Our new dog Teegan, however, has proven to be the one to be concerned about. She has left her indelible mark in our lives in more ways than one — by her sheer adorableness, and with the pee stains all over our stinking bedrooms.

I did my first marathon. Well, it wasn’t technically a marathon. It wasn’t even a half marathon, really. OK, it was just a 10K AIDS walk in the city. But it was for a good cause and was quite fun as well. But then …

On a basketball court during a company sports outing in May, I tore the ACL on my right knee. I’m still recovering from the surgery, but I think the damage took more of a toll on my ego. I feel old and fragile. Too bad they don’t do surgeries on one’s psyche.

I survived 2 layoff runs at the venerable but embattled Y!. It was a relief to be spared, but still excruciating experiences nonetheless.

For the first time ever during my so-called adult life, I donned a costume during Halloween. I impersonated Kanye West and dressed as Kanye (from the) East, replete with his trademark shutter shades. It wasn’t anything grandiose, especially in a city like San Francisco where our party was, but it’s a baby step for this otherwise reserved male.

Horace, Vu and myself — collectively penned and known as the tres gatos by one of our girls, Marssy — hit up more clubs and lounges than I ever have in any previous 1-year span. All told, lots of dancing, drinking and dementia:

  • The year will go down as the year I got down. I merrily strutted my moves more than ever before on various dance floors. I doubt it was as memorable or enjoyable to watch for the other club patrons, though, as I seemed like a malfunctioning robot having a major breakdown every time I unveiled my dancing prowess. Despite that, we did meet a lot of female acquaintances. Sadly, nothing more serious evolved out of those.
  • There were several times during these night outs that I would wake up in the morning totally oblivious to what transpired in the late hours of the prior night’s escapade. Such blackouts never happened to me before. Perhaps gulping cocktails like an SUV burns gas on full throttle had something to do with this phenomenon. In any event, kids, this serves as a reminder to y’all that alcohol is very, very bad for you. If you want to hear it straight from this thirsty horse’s mouth, you can always find me at the local tavern during happy hour.

For sure, there are more memorable milestones and mishaps that I didn’t memorialize in this post. I shall share them with you when the time is right … that is, as soon as I remember them. Till then, here’s to another great year ahead.

Cheers!

Curiosity Killed the Catatonia

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Mr. Curious, well, I need some inspiration
It’s my birthday and I cannot find no cause for celebration
The scenario is grave, but I’ll be braver when you save me

- Mr. Curiosity, Jason Mraz

I was playing this song over and over yesterday morning on my way to work. With a light drizzle coming down and thick, gloomy clouds hovering above 85 North, I drove with the accompaniment of Jason Mraz’s poignant voice filling the cabin of my car.

I already had the verse above in mind a few weeks ago when I first thought of something to post on my birthday. It felt appropriate at the time … but not anymore. I seem to have disposed of my murky spectacles — at least for the time being and for reasons unbeknownst — and my outlook isn’t quite as grave. I realize that there are really a lot of things to be thankful for — a fact I often forget when going over the bumps that life periodically likes to toss on the road.

Speaking of roads, when I was just past Cupertino (still on 85), I saw double rainbows ahead. It spanned across the highway and I actually got to pass under it. Now I’m one of those people who believe and like to find subtle signs or divine clues in innocuous details of everyday living, so when the other side of the rainbows exposed patches of blue sky, I, of course, construed that with symbolic significance.

Things are gonna get brighter, I reckon. Thanks, Mr. Curiosity.